


where from here

by deniigiq



Series: Dumpster Fires Verse [41]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Beginnings, College, Gen, Identity Reveal, Mistaken Identity, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Red, Team as Family, new generations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 17:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21122630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: “Shop around the corner, The Cove, 24 hour place. Medium with two sugars and half and half—the stuff behind the counter. Tell her it’s for Red.”This man was seriously, 100% making Tony Stark go buy him a coffee right now.“O…kay,” Tony said. “They take card?”“Nope,” DD said, popping the ‘p.’ “Cash only. They got an ATM inside. Thanks.”(Peter goes to college and Tony tries so hard to keep boundaries. Concern overtakes him and Mike Murdock comes to town to help clear things up.)





	where from here

**Author's Note:**

> hello. 
> 
> What happens next is supposed to be confusing. If you are confused, that is the correct mode to be in. 
> 
> If you do not know who Mike Murdock is, I swear to god, you are missing out on one of the most incredible parts of Daredevil. He is Matt's alter ego. The twin brother he made up for himself. Yes, you read that right. I'm not going for the Complete Mike here, since he's not really serving that purpose in the same way. But like. Treat yourself. Go look up Mike Murdock and marvel at his (ie Matt's) tacky imagination.

Bruce couldn’t believe he was doing this.

This was a rampant abuse of power and friendship. It had to be at least an 8 on a scale of 1 to 10 for bad ideas to have.

Yeah, sure, man. Just send the fucking Hulk out there to talk to a spider. That’ll go well. What could _possibly_ go wrong?

Peter was alive. Peter was just fine. Peter had started college not far away, and he looked the part: frazzled, anxious, and desperate to please.

Bruce wove through the crowd of fresh faces on the campus to try to wave him down but made the mistake of stopping for a moment to try to think of a better way to do that. As soon as he did, a little angelic voice dropped down from the heaves somewhere to his left say, “Oh my god, you’re Bruce Banner.”

And that was it.

He was done.

The floodgates had opened and suddenly every physics major within 50 yards had a textbook they needed him to sign.

Bruce decided that it was very clever of Peter to surround himself with a shell of young people out of their minds with caffeine and education-induced anxiety.

Very clever, very clever indeed.

Bruce had forgotten that Peter had been handed off to Mr. Unhinged Battle Strategist himself. Wade Wilson had served not just his home country, but the one adjacent in war. Bruce had seen his records. Wade had once submitted a formal application to the Avengers when things had first gotten started.

The man was a machine. And despite his medical discharge, his references back in the army still sang his praises. Very specific parts of it did, anyways. Very, _very_ specific parts of it. The same parts had kind of started to panic when Tony called them asking questions about Wade Wilson.

They didn’t have as much to say about Wilson’s professional skills back then as they did about the fact that his discharge had been purely medical. Medical, they emphasized. Not dishonorable. No one had ever said that word specifically.

No one.

They warned Tony to be extremely careful while playing with the loaded gun he was holding and then re-emphasized that no one had ever said Wilson’s discharge was in any way dishonorable, and then they hung up.

In terms of a reference, it was lacking.

But in terms of a brazen demonstration of power, it was moving as hell.

Barnes wanted Wilson on the fucking spot. He wanted him on the security team. He wanted him on the On Call team. He wanted to see this force of nature in action.

Tony had had it to his eyes with wildcards, though, and suggested (for once rationally), that maybe they should seek out someone with less blood on their record and a little more prowess in the team-work department.

Nat had taken offense.

Clint had taken offense.

Bruce hadn’t expected anything else from the two of them.

Clint had argued that Wilson—wildcard, though he was—was ex-special forces and you don’t play around in the ex-specs if you’re just a blundering idiot. He was adamant that, like himself, Wilson was playing a part when he went around, whistling while lopping off heads and taking names.

Nat said something similar, but more importantly went on to say that if you actually watched footage of Wilson at work, you could see how fast and strategic his brain functioned. His “unpredictability” wasn’t that so much as it was split-second, pragmatic-to-a-fault decision making and, hey, the guy always seems to come out on the other end still swinging, doesn’t he?

If it worked for him, it worked for him. Who were they to judge his methods?

Tony, with the support of Rhodey and some of the more squirrely bodies on the team (SHIELD at that time), had quashed the idea.

They had just gotten Barnes around then. And while security had never been tighter, he was a handful and a half for the Avengers to work with.

So Wilson’s application had been discarded, and he’d taken major offense at the lack of a detailed report back explaining why he’d been turned down. He’d fucked off and apparently decided to add Tony to his shit list then steal his protégé while he was at it.

He was teaching Peter, quite obviously, how to be equally tactically-minded.

Bruce would have to come at this from another direction.

Sam Wilson was fond of Peter. Sam Wilson checked up on Peter occasionally and grimaced at anyone who he thought was trying to get between Pete and his agency.

Sam did that for everyone, but he’d been iffy on having a kid anywhere near the team from the start. Now he was less iffy on having the kid on the team and more iffy on people trying to reel him back in towards it.

Barnes warned Bruce to be careful.

“I get Stark wants a status report or whatever, and that’s fine—almost understandable—but if Sam catches wind of it, we’re all catching holy hell,” he said.

A ringing endorsement of Bruce’s mission all around, that was.

“I don’t want to do this,” Bruce had whispered.

“Then don’t,” Barnes had whispered back.

That interaction alone should have told Bruce not to even bother asking, but he had to keep in mind here that he was going up against Wade Wilson’s strategic teaching, so he sighed and bit the bullet and went straight to the heart of things.

“He’s fine, Bruce,” Sam said.

“See, _I _get that, and _you_ get that, but—”

“Tony can send a drone to stalk him or whatever if he wants to know that badly how the kid’s doing,” Sam said.

Bruce sighed again.

“He’s trying to respect boundaries here, Sam,” he said. “He’s figured out more or less where Peter’s coming from. He’s not doing anything he wouldn’t do for anyone else on the team.”

And that was the truth.

Tony, for all his bullheadedness, kept eyes on them all to make sure everyone was okay. It was his way of showing love. He’d been burned before by leaving people associated with himself to their own devices for too long.

That’s how Tony lost people. They stepped out of his orbit and then blinked out of existence, by bomb or car crash or kidnapper.

Bruce wasn’t trying to condone the light stalking, but he also knew PTSD when he saw it.

Sam did, too. Begrudgingly.

He was good people, Sam.

“Send him a text,” he finally said. “He asks Steve shit all the time these days. Mostly about composition since he’s taking photography as an elective.”

He was what now?

Why photography? Did they run out of seat in physics 101?

Sam laughed.

“Oh, Bruce,” he said. “You’re such a STEM major.”

He patted Bruce on the shoulder and went off on his way. Bruce watched his back and put a hand where Sam’s had been.

Photography, though?

“He’s pretty good,” Steve said, “Here let me show you. We’re working on the rule of thirds.”

The rule of what?

“Thirds,” Steve said. “You divide your image into thirds, vertical and horizontal, and then you plan out compositions along that grid so you don’t put everything front and center. That’s gross, no one wants that. It’s uncomfortable.”

Bruce did not understand. Front and center seemed to him like the point of picture-taking. If you didn’t take a picture of the thing, with the thing in the middle, then what the fuck were you taking a picture of??

Steve stared at him and blinked exactly once.

“Take a look,” he said, holding out his phone.

It had pictures on it. Pictures presumably taken by Peter. They looked nice. They had a classic New York vibe to them. Trains and alleys. The things Peter probably saw while he was out running around in his homemade Spidey suit.

“They’re fine,” Bruce said.

Steve hummed and took his phone back to flick through a couple more. Once he was satisfied with whatever he’d landed on, he handed it back over so Bruce could see a picture of Daredevil passed out in the corner of a bunch of concrete walls. Anyone who did not have Avenger experience might have thought he was just having a nap, but Bruce knew that particular sprawl.

DD was un-fucking-comfortable and taking an involuntary breather for a minute. For long enough for Peter to take a picture, anyways. Peter had caught him in a softer light than what Bruce would have expected and it made him look a lot more human than he normally appeared. He’d also picked a lower angle which made DD look solid and heavy. His limbs felt weighty with fat and muscle from down low like that. They rested on top of each other like a classic nude’s. His hand-wrappings were torn and his bruised, wrapped knuckles seemed more purple and forlorn than ever peeking out of them. There was blood smeared on the concrete around his torso.

He looked like a guy who’d found a place to weather the storm of a lost battle.

“He’s good at portraiture,” Steve said, “Which figures, since it’s, you know, _Peter_.”

He took back his phone and flicked through a couple more photos.

“We gotta get him to think more about contrast, though,” he said. “He tends to shoot things too light or too dark.”

…right. Art things. Yay?

Steve leveled Bruce with a face that spoke of simultaneous suspicion and disapproval. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

“There’s more to life than science and war,” he sniffed.

Bruce got that. It just wasn’t answering any of the questions he’d asked.

“He really seems into it, Bruce,” Steve said. “I guess his art teach has passed a couple of jobs along to him.”

Say what now?

“Photography,” Steve sounded out for him.

“No, I get that,” Bruce said, “I’m just wondering if that’s not going to, you know, interfere with his studies.”

Steve’s eyes were honestly far too blue and focused for Bruce’s liking.

“These _are_ his studies,” Steve said. “Photography _is_ a study. A field. And he’s good at it. And who knows? Maybe one day he’ll want to be a photographer.”

“He is a photographer,” Bruce said, waving at the phone in Steve’s pocket.

“No, a photographer, as in, a career photographer,” Steve sounded out for him like he was an idiot.

“There’s no security in that,” Bruce pointed out.

“Not necessarily true,” Steve said.

“He’s going to school for chemistry, Steve,” Bruce said.

“Well, who’s to say he can’t switch majors?”

This was…getting a little heated. Bruce felt like he’d struck a nerve here. Perhaps even one of the ones that made Steve tell Tony to get the fuck out of his face with his big-money bullshit.

He had to sit back and remind himself that Steve’s drawings from the 1930s had been torn from his sketchbooks and put on display in the Met for years upon years without his permission. His charcoals and the couple of advertisements he’d done which had made it into prints for posters back in the day fetched thousands upon thousands of dollars now and he’d been fighting for nearly a decade with the Smithsonian to have back a portrait he’d drawn of his mother.

Art was important to Steve. Art was how Steve coped with the tumultuous chaos of modern life.

“Okay, sorry,” Bruce said. “Let’s pull it back here, I think we’re getting away from the point. I’m just asking if you could tell me where to find Pete for just a chat.”

“For Tony?” Steve asked, sitting back in his chair.

“Mm, for Tony, yeah, but also for me. I care about the kid, too, you know,” Bruce pointed out.

Steve worked his jaw.

“You got propaganda?” he asked.

Bruce did not laugh. He wanted to, but he did not.

“No propaganda,” he promised. “Only slightly ulterior motives.”

Steve thought about that and then shrugged and took Bruce’s phone to type Peter’s number into it.

“No propaganda,” he threatened before handing the phone back.

“No propaganda, I promise,” Bruce said.

Steve let him have his phone.

**BB:** hi peter, it’s dr. banner. I got your number from Cap. You doing okay, kiddo?

**PP:** doc!! How are you? I’m fine I just got so much homework man did you need something?

A therapist who didn’t make him want to scream. An assistant who was not a pyromaniac. A nice, thick buffer between him and pissing Steve off again.

**BB:** nope. Just checking in on you. we miss you at the lab you know. Can’t find another intern who wants to slide around in grease all day

**PP:** lol

**PP:** yeah I’ll bet.

How the fuck were you supposed to talk to children??

**BB:** are you doing okay with your other guys?

**PP:** which ones

**BB:** the red ones

**PP:** oh yeah, Wade took me shooting again. I shot a rifle!

Oh dear god.

**BB:** did it go well?

**PP:** no I’m banned. I shot worse than Red and that’s saying something.

**BB:** is he bad?

**PP:** uuuuuuh something like that.

**BB:** ?

**PP:** it’s nothing, he’s just got a certain kind of handicap is all. Anyways, Wade said he’s getting me lessons from Mr. Castle ‘cause that’ll be safer for everyone than going to a range again.

Oh dear _god_.

**BB:** that sounds like the worst idea I’ve heard this month

**PP:** yeah see that’s what I thought but Mr. Castle actually has a dog so this is possibly a win-win situation.

He was even starting to talk like those folks. Damn.

**BB:** please don’t become the new punisher, peter. My fragile heart can’t take it. Steve tells me you’re doing photography now?

**PP:** I AM

**PP:** WANT TO SEE??

Tony was not going to know what to do with this information. Tony’s idea of art was abstract and minimalist.

Peter’s idea of art seemed very much to be the beauty of a side street filled with a rainbow of trash.

**BB:** sure. Are you having a show or smth?

**PP:** I AM. One of my pieces got into the winter show at CUNY!!! You should come see it. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the STEM kids, they don’t like the art building.

**BB:** that’s comforting? You like it that much, pete?

**PP:** idk it just feels really? Right? Is that weird? I know I’m not the best at it yet, but it’s all new and exciting and I haven’t had that for a while, you know??

That brain of his was too big for Peter’s bones.

**BB:** no that makes sense, when is your art show?

**PP:** :DDD I’ll forward you the email. You gotta sign up on Eventbrite. Admission is free, though!!

**BB:** can I bring a friend?

**PP:** is it mr. stark?

**BB:** guilty as charged

**PP:** do what you want, but I can’t have people thinking I know y’all so don’t spend too long being awed by my art 👍👍👍✌

Wow, look at that forward-thinking.

**BB:** I’ll pass the message along. See you then.

**PP:** ttyl doc!

Bruce delivered the information to Tony and sat back with Rhodey to watch him stomp around in circles lamenting Peter’s corruption by Steve.

“The art world is so hard,” he eventually whined in Bruce and Rhodey’s direction. “So competitive, does he even know?”

“I don’t think he cares, Tones,” Rhodey pointed out.

“WHY ART, PETER?”

Bruce watched as Tony did another lap of the room like an expecting father. Dum-E started to follow him and gave him a flat tire in the process. He scowled back at the machine, then carried on, on his warpath.

“Someone’s gotta talk sense into that kid,” he lamented. “Has no one talked sense into him?”

“He’s still a chem major,” Bruce said. “He hasn’t switched or doubled or anything. And he’s super excited about it, so I dunno? Chill? Art is good. Important. Healthy.”

“And if he doesn’t want to be a STEM kid, he doesn’t have to,” Rhodey pointed out.

“But _why_?” Tony blurted out. “I get that other stuff, just _why_? He’s brilliant, Rhodey. Fucking brilliant, does he not realize how brilliant he is? Should I have told him more? Should I tell him now?”

Absolutely not.

“He can be a bright engineer and a brilliant photographer,” Rhodey said reasonably, “The two aren’t exclusive. Look at Steve: master strategist, soldier, and painter.”

“Cap is all forty of my problems right now,” Tony snapped.

This was not untrue.

Steve was going through a rebellious streak of his own. The real possibility that he might quit the Avengers again was looming over all their heads. Barnes didn’t seem too worried though, so they were all taking cues from him and having quiet anxiety on their own time.

“Maybe the way forward here is to encourage everyone to do what makes them happy?” Bruce suggested hopefully.

“Maybe the answer is to bribe one of them Reds,” Tony huffed in response. “They have reasonable careers, don’t they? I mean—in some meaning of the word, right? They can talk to him, can’t they?”

Rhodey gave Bruce a face which reflected his own sentiments right back at him.

Wade Wilson had definitely had a career. But Bruce wouldn’t call it ‘reasonable’ by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it was long-lasting and lucrative and that was about all the good that could be said about it. DD, on the other hand--god knew what he did during his day job. Given the way he skulked around Hell’s Kitchen, Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if he was a professional dog walker or delivery man.

And while he was positive Peter would like nothing more than to be a professional dog walker, Bruce also wasn’t so sure that this was the type of career they were aiming to promote here.

“How exactly do you propose to bribe them?” Bruce asked. “They hate you, don’t they?”

Tony gave him a face.

Rhodey was so embarrassed, Bruce was positive he would fling himself into oncoming traffic, if only he could find some at this time of night. He just about hid in Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce himself kept a good distance from Tony and his obnoxious tambourine. The lights in Hell’s Kitchen’s many condos flickered on and people came out to the windows and fire-escapes to shout abuse at the madman calling for the Devil’s attention.

“Dude,” someone called, “That ain’t how you get his attention. Just fuckin’ scream like everyone else.”

It was kind of amazing that these folks all seemed to know exactly what Tony was doing.

“He ain’t gonna come to you,” someone else on a doorstep said in disgust. “He’s an Eat the Rich type of guy.”

None of these folks at windows or doorways appeared amazed or enthralled by the appearance of Ironman in their midst. They were mostly tired and, Bruce suspected, wanting to see the Devil punch Tony Stark in the middle of the damn street.

“Thank you for your advice, good citizen,” Tony said back at the Eat the Rich guy.

“It’s your funeral, man,” the man said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. He stubbed out his cigarette and returned to the back of the restaurant he’d come from.

Wherever DD was, he wasn’t impressed with Tony’s Iron-can impersonation.

Instead, he sauntered up on silent feet and leaned an elbow on Rhodey’s shoulder for a full minute before Bruce and Rhodey even noticed him.

He grinned maniacally at the two of them clutching at their chests once they finally realized he was there.

“Having a night out on the town, Doc? Colonel?” DD asked with a coat of smugness to his tone so thick that it could have covered the whole street. “If you’re looking for a good time, Cynthia’s is your place.”

He popped a thumb back over his shoulder at a bunch of ladies watching the whole thing from the doorway of their club. They all seemed taken by the recommendation and crowed their appreciation at the devil by asking him to come dance with them.

Some of the watchers up in the windows overhead similarly started calling encouragement his way.

One of them shouted, “you can climb up _my_ fire-escape anytime, DD,” which he grinned at but didn’t address.

The man had this part of the city under his spell. That was for sure. He’d come a long way in the last few years. Bruce would give him that.

“Aha, Devilman,” Tony said, following the noise of the audience and making his way back over to Bruce, Rhodey, and their new acquaintance nonchalantly. “You got a minute to chat?”

The lower half of Daredevil’s face looked like he was just barely holding back a laugh.

“About what?” he asked.

“You know what,” Tony said, waving impatiently. “I’m not trying to get involved, I just want to know who I’m trusting here.”

Daredevil perked up at the word ‘trusting’ because sometimes Tony actually did know what he was doing.

Unfortunately, the devil had a wicked smile which said that he knew how to play this game, too.

A woman passing by took a moment to tell him he was ‘lookin’ good tonight,’ and someone from a balcony let out a wolf whistle to confirm this.

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” DD said.

The Daredevil in Peter’s picture was a lot sweeter-looking than the one circling Tony like a shark. He kind sniffed at him and huffed as though he was insulted by the smell.

Tony took that with grace.

“You some kinda dog or something?” he asked. “Dog-powers? Were-devil?”

“Oh yeah, when the moon comes out, I get a hankerin’ for blood,” DD said smoothly.

“Bad news, friend. There’s no moon tonight,” Tony pointed out.

“I’m not your friend.”

“My bad. Bad news, champ, there’s no moon tonight. But _anyways_, the whole—”

Daredevil scoffed.

“You think I’m just talkin’ to _you_?” he chuckled. “You’re fuckin’ delusional, Stark. This ain’t talkin’. What’ve you got for me?”

See, Bruce kept as well away from vigilante folks like this as he could. They gave him the creeps. Clint and Nat fit right in among them with their cryptic code-talking and impenetrable joke-making. Those two often worked in exchanges, and vigilantes like Daredevil and the Punisher were no different.

“What do you want?” Tony asked. “Besides the end of gentrification, global slavery, yadda yadda yadda—the bleeding heart shit. What do you want right here, right now?”

You could say a lot about Tony, but he had a knack for straight-talking when he needed to and the straight-talking now appeared to be working on DD.

He crossed his arms and cocked out a hip.

“Coffee,” he said.

Bruce had to take a second to process that.

“Coffee?” Tony repeated.

“Did I fuckin’ stutter, pal? Yeah. Coffee. I worked an 8 to 8 right before this. I’m flaggin just lookin’ at ya.”

He did what now?

“Okay, coffee,” Tony said, a bit thrown off his guard. “You, uh, got a place in mind or?”

“Shop around the corner, The Cove, 24 hour place. Medium with two sugars and half and half—the stuff behind the counter. Tell her it’s for Red.”

This man was seriously, _100%_ making Tony Stark go buy him a coffee, right now.

“O…kay,” Tony said. “They take card?”

“Nope,” DD said, popping the ‘p.’ “Cash only. They got an ATM inside. Thanks.”

He smiled charmingly with all his teeth on the last syllable and Rhodey started laughing hard enough to draw tears. Tony was skeptical, but he knew what he’d come out here for and if this was how he was going to have to make it happen, then he was down to do it. He left the other three of them in the alley for The Cove.

DD watched him go and then turned towards Bruce and Rhodey. He seemed charmed that Rhodey was so tickled by his joke.

“Nice night, then?” he asked.

This was going to be a fucking trip.

DD told them to call him ‘Red,’ and he cradled his shitty 24 hour coffee as one might cradle a child. Tony offered him a croissant to have with it, which he completely ignored.

“I’m getting the feeling that you’re the source of the energy drink situation a while back,” Tony noted a bit stiffly in the face of Red’s adoration of his cup.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. The Monsters. Yeah, that was me,” he admitted. “Wade thinks they’re poison.”

Bruce had never personally observed the dynamics of this team and he was _fascinated_ to learn that Wade Wilson was the disproving eldest body in it.

“I mean, sure,” Tony said. “Are you happy now? You need anything else—world peace aside?”

He’d really figured Red out. And DD was fucking delighted about it.

“You give me world peace and I’ll give you anything you want, big boy,” he purred.

Tony’s uncomfortableness rocketed up at least thirty points.

“I’m taking that as a compliment and a sign that you are into the bod,” he said. “So thanks. But no thanks. I am here purely to extract personal information. What is your area of employment, Mr. Devil?”

Red went still and confused.

“Beg your pardon?” he said in a much more human tone.

“Your profession,” Tony elaborated. “Day-in, day-out. What is your chosen flavor of The Grind?”

DD’s control over the situation was slipping.

“My? Job?” he said. “You’re asking me what my job is?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Is that unbelievable?”

“Completely.”

“Okay, so maybe let’s take a step back. You are educated, no?” Tony tried. “High school diploma at least?”

DD turned his face toward Bruce and Rhodey for verification that this was not a joke.

“It has a purpose,” Rhodey promised. “Not just fucking with you. They’re real questions.”

DD appeared to take that as gospel. He turned back to Tony, rubbing a thumb against the heat of his coffee cup.

“I’ve got a diploma, yeah,” he said. “What’s it to you?”

“What kind of diploma?” Tony needled. “Are we talkin’ an AA here? Or a BS? BA? MS? MA in street fighting?”

The devil was so suspicious that it took him a moment to answer.

“Got a postgrad from a local place—why’s it matter to you?” he said.

Tony paused to consider.

“So a Master’s?” he said.

“What’s it matter?” Red pressed.

“Certification? PhD, maybe? That would be extremely impressive, just so you know.”

“You know what you got a PhD in, pal? Listening for shit. What’s. It. Matter?”

Bruce thought that Rhodey was actually starting to like the devil a little bit, which bode poorly for Tony.

“I am trying to suss out where Peter has developed a passion for art and I am _trying_ to find someone to make sure he doesn’t piss his life away as a starving artist,” Tony said. “So I’m hoping that might be you. Friend.”

Red cocked his head.

“This is about the photography?” he asked.

Well, more or less.

“Art’s good for him,” Red sniffed, finally taking a sip of his boiling drink.

“Art’s fine for him,” Tony agreed, “But stability’s better.”

Red sniffed again.

“Nah,” he said. “Art’s better. Got the struggle in it and shit. He’s fallin’ head first, you know that? Boy’s got that damn camera with him all the time. I handed him over to Jessica for a couple of hours and now all he does is beg me to get her to have him for a few more. I’m startin’ to think I might use it as some kind of incentive. What do you think?”

This, he directed at Bruce and Rhodey.

And like?

Sure? Why not?

But this was not the answer Tony was looking for.

“I say this with all the respect for you and your people in my heart,” he said, “But do not do that to this boy. He’s got a really strong career ahead of him if he keeps his head down. He could be the next Bruce. The next me. The next whatever is beyond us. He’s that good, Red. Don’t let him waste it.”

Red clicked his tongue.

“Waste it on art,” he said.

“Not on art, per se, just on—”

“Art,” Red repeated before he could finish. “Just on art.”

There was a long pause between the two of them.

“Peter’s family isn’t made of money,” Tony said. “Photography isn’t a guaranteed career.”

“Dude, I’m broke as fuck and I went to _law school_, man,” Red said apparently with no more patience to deal with this nonsense. “Get into this century. No degree guarantees a career anymore. That ain’t our lot. You and your generation, fine. Sure. Whatever. Y’all got your fancy degrees in your fancy STEM fields and y’all made your money climbing that ladder or taking on your daddy’s war machine. But my gen? The kids after me? Nah, man. The economy’s broke. My three years at a fuckin’ ivy league has got me makin’ less than I was at my internship. I can afford less now that I’m a member of the goddamn Bar Association, pal. And you think I’m gonna turn around and tell some kid that his passion’s meaningless ‘cause it don’t make him a penny in the end?”

Red laughed.

“Yeah, no. Fuck that,” he said. “World needs art as much as it needs anything else. People aren’t meant to spend all their time bending the earth to their will. If Spidey wants to strangle some atoms or whatever into a new shapes, that’s his bag. But if he wants to go take pictures of all the decayin’ shapes we already twisted ‘em into and to make folks feel something from it, what’s the problem with that? Don’t we already got enough pressure on us all out here, Stark?”

And.

There was so much to unpack with that. So many beautiful sentiments and insights and--

“Hold up, you’re a fucking _lawyer_?”

\--Tony went that way.

Red let Tony have his breakdown all around him without much emotion at all.

“You cannot be a lawyer,” Tony told him. “You, of all the people on this _earth_, cannot be a lawyer.”

“So my friends say,” Red said.

“YOU cannot be a LAWYER, devil.”

“You don’t gotta shout.”

Tony ignored that.

“Peter has been cavorting around with a _lawyer_,” he said, dragging hands over his face. “No wonder he’s gotten so argumentative. No wonder he’s—who the fuck even _are you_? A lawyer? A streetfighter? Do you secretly work for Fisk or something? Are you a double-duty henchman?”

Bruce had to admit that Red was taking this more calmly than he would have. He just sipped at his coffee.

“Yeah, totally,” he said. “I got this great plan—first, I help Fisk get thrown in jail. Then I scream for six hours, ruin my career, and go live in the sewers as a fuckin’ Ninja Turtle upon realizing that I’ve just dunked on my employer. What do you think, dipshit?”

Bruce had to admit that he was maybe falling for the man’s candid charm like Rhodey was.

DD wasn’t a maniac. He was just out here, blowing off steam, taking out the ankles and knees of the people who must have plagued him in his day job. Bruce could not emphasize how much he empathized with wanting to do the exact same thing sometimes.

“How can you be a lawyer and not tell Peter that—”

“I was a philosophy major,” Red interrupted. “My undergrad degree is no better than toilet paper in mainstream society.”

“Criminal Justice,” Tony pleaded with him. “You could have done criminal justice. That’s a degree, isn’t it?”

“I did,” Red said. “Minored in it. You’re right, though, I’ll remind Pete that he can minor in Chem if he gets bored with it.”

This man was single-handedly going to give Tony a stroke.

“You—how—are you real? Are you putting this on?” Tony finally asked, just on this side of desperate.

Red took the lid off his coffee and had a proper gulp.

“Oh yeah, I just like fucking with you,” he said. “Psh. Law school? Me? I’m just a dumb-dumb streetfighter, man. Just a radical activist with a leather fetish.” He laughed. “Law school. Who’d believe you, eh?”

He gave the three of them a gleaming grin and there was a long pause where reality started to sink in.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking lawyer,” Tony whimpered.

**BB:** heya pete.

**PP:** hey doc! What’s up? You okay?

**BB:** yeah. So we ran into your buddy red the other day

**PP:** lol yeah he said so.

**BB:** right of course.

**BB:** but can I ask you a question?

**PP:** sure shoot

**BB:** is Red actually a lawyer?

**PP:** lolololol

**PP:** did he tell you that? That’s a pretty good one. He always picks a different one when someone asks him.

What the actual fuck did that mean?

**BB:** please clarify.

**PP:** oh. You know. He likes to fuck with people so he makes up a new lifestory every time he talks to someone. Idk if he even knows who he is anymore.

**BB:** obviously.

**PP:** sry doc. Seems like you’ve been hit by

**BB:** peter don’t

**PP:** you’ve been struck by

**BB: **I’m begging you

**PP:** a smooth criminal

**BB:** Tony

**TS:** don’t fucking talk to me

**BB:** so peter finally texted you back huh?

**TS:** I don’t believe this for a SECOND Robert. Not one second. We’re investigating. Get your hat.

**BB:** did you just call me Robert?

**TS:** TIME IS A-WASTING SIR.

**BB:** okay okay, but can I bring a friend?

Thor was delighted to be asked to come out to investigate things. Bruce picked him because, in the case that a diversion was needed, he would be perfect for it.

He also brought much needed cheer and calm to the situation, despite Tony’s flailing at him and demanding to know why Bruce had chosen the most conspicuous of all conspicuous beings on the planet.

“Wade is a highly sexual person, Tony,” Bruce said. “I guarantee you he will be into Thor.”

Tony grumbled. But ultimately he relented.

He went to go hunt down Rhodey who was hiding in anticipation of being dragged out on this adventure.

“And you idiots believed him?” Wade said, petting at Thor’s biceps exactly as planned.

Thor appreciated being admired. Almost as much as he appreciated Wade Wilson’s buddy giving him the evil eye over their mutual pile of ammunition on the table in what appeared to be a safehouse.

Thor was fascinated by this buddy’s cybernetic arm. He smiled winningly at the man.

Wilson’s buddy started to show a little bit of teeth there.

“No, no, that’s his brother,” Wade said.

Bruce’s attention snapped back over to him.

“Come again?” he said.

“His brother,” Wade repeated for him. “Red’s twin is a lawyer. Went to Columbia and everything. His name’s Matt. Red’s Mike. You know how it is with twins; always a goody-two-shoes and a wannabe.”

“Are you fucking with us right now?” Rhodey asked for the group.

Wade snorted.

“What skin do I got in this game?” he asked. “Red ain’t my problem.”

“Sam Wilson says you two are pretty close,” Rhodey pointed out. “Seems like he thinks Red’s your problem.”

Wade abandoned Thor’s arm to put his hands on his hips and shrug a single shoulder.

“We fucked around,” he said. “You know how it is. You get naked, get comfortable, get a l’il talkative. Maybe have a couple of accidental feelings. You want more than that? I can give you more. This one time we—”

“No, no. We’re good, thank you,” Rhodey interrupted. “Brother, then. He’s this Matt guy’s brother. Does the Matt-guy know what his dear, uh, Mike is doing?”

Wade hummed, thinking. Then laughed. And laughed and laughed.

And did not fucking answer.

“I cannot believe that I am researching the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen,” Tony said in the lab.

“We should have brought Nat,” Rhodey said. “She could have sniffed out any lies.”

Thor was offended.

“I can tell when people are lying,” he claimed.

“You cannot,” Bruce informed him in full knowledge of this fact.

“I can.”

“Not,” Bruce added for him. Then a thought struck him. “We could ask Nat now, you know. I think Clint said that she and Red have a history?”

Tony sat up, on high alert at his station.

“Banner, you’re a genius,” he said.

Nat was to be found, unfortunately, with Clint. Which meant that all information gleaned from the two of them would be 20% less accurate at the least. They blinked owlishly at the question.

“No, no, Red’s a lawyer for sure,” Clint said. “I met him a bit ago. Yay tall, glasses, the whole nine yards.”

“What are you talking about?” Nat snapped at him. “That’s Mike.”

Clint’s face did some somersaults of bafflement.

“Mike?” he asked.

“Yeah, Mike,” Nat told him. “The one with the glasses. That’s Mike. The lawyer is Matt.”

Clint stared at her for a long, long time.

“The lawyer wears glasses,” he said slowly. Nat pulled away from the table, still staring directly at him.

“No, he doesn’t,” she said. “Mike wears glasses. Sunglasses. Square things. You’re thinking of Matt now.”

“No, that’s—wait. Hold up,” Clint said. “Matt. The lawyer. Wears glasses. Round ones. Circles, I seen ‘em.”

“No, no, you’re not listening,” Nat hissed. “Matt—the lawyer—doesn’t wear glasses. Mike wears glasses. Red is Mike.”

“Red is Matt,” Clint countered.

“No, Matt is the _lawyer_, Clint,” Nat growled, getting frustrated. “This is not difficult.”

“It’s fucking getting’ there,” Clint said back, just as testily. “Listen. I met Red. Red is Matt. Matt is the lawyer. Matt wears glasses.”

“And I’m telling you that you met Matt, but you didn’t meet Red. Red is Mike. _Mike_ wears the glasses.”

“Then who the fuck did I meet?” Clint snapped.

“You met fucking _Matt_, Clint,” Nat snapped right back.

“No, I met Red! He was wearing glasses!!”

“No, he wasn’t because he doesn’t because that’s _Mike_.”

“Oh my god, what is happening?” Rhodey asked with his hands on his head.

“What if they both wear glasses?” Bruce tried. “How do you know which is which if they _both_ wear glasses?”

The spies were stumped.

“What do you mean?” Nat said. “They’re identical.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

**TS:** Peter I am going to die and suffer I actually just need the truth please just give me the truth

**PP: **I’m not coming back

**TS:** forget the avengers child I am DYING

**PP:** oh okay. So why did you make an avengers chat just now?

**JR:** peter does DD have a twin?

**PP:** what? Mike?

**BB:** oh god no not more of this

**JR:** DD is Matt then?

**PP:** no, DD is Mike. And yeah he’s got a twin.

**NR:** I FUCKING TOLD YOU CLINTON FRANCIS

**PP:** woah

**CB:** NO. I DON’T ACCEPT THIS.

**CB:** peter. Favored child. Red is Matt. He’s Matt. With the glasses. That one’s Matt.

**NR:** Clint so help me god

**JR: **okay no. you two shut up. Peter. Just give it to us straight. DD’s name is Mike. He wears square glasses. He is not a lawyer. Are these the facts?

**PP:** yep

**TS:** oh thank god

**PP:** actually wait, square glasses?

**TS:** nevermind I’m gonna fucking cry

**SR:** what are we talking about.

**NR:** Red.

**SR:** Red. Yes. Color.

**CB:** Daredevil

**SR:** oh, right right. Yes, he’s very cute.

**SW: **who’s cute?

**SW:** trick question, it’s me.

**JB:** I love everything happening right now. Don’t worry, y’all. I come with answers. [image]

**JB:** [image]

**JB:** [image]

**JB:** this is Matt Murdock. This is lawyer. As you can see, glasses are round. This is not Red.

**NR:** suck it barton

**CB:** what the fuck no. None of you are listening. I need you all to listen because I CANNOT ALRIGHT??????

**CB:** Red = Matt = round glasses. Case closed.

**JB:** dude no

**CB:** dude you were RIGHT THERE NEXT TO ME WHEN I MET HIM

**JB:** what? No, we were together when we met Matt, Clint. Breathe.

**SW:** Can confirm. We met Matt, Clint. Not Red. You alright there man?

**CB:** SOMEONE COME OVER I’M GONNA PUKE MY HEADS SPINNING

**SR:** okay okay, I got you hold on.

**PP:** wow y’all are really making this more difficult than it has to be. For real. Why not just ask Matt?

**TS: **oh my god there’s a reason you went to college thank you Peter.

Matt Murdock worked with, of all people, Franklin Nelson, Barnes’s and Clint’s personal attorney. Nelson was super nice and hyper-competent and Bruce knew this because for a while there, when Nelson had been working at Hogarth, Benowitz, and Chao, Tony had been hatching plots to steal him for his own legal team.

But out of nowhere, HB&C broke up and then Nelson, rather than stay on with Hogarth, who, it was Tony’s and Bruce’s understanding, he worked mostly under, disappeared off into the ether.

And apparently the ether was in Hell’s Kitchen, in an office with Nelson, Murdock & Page printed in official looking letters on the door.

Tony stared at it and hummed.

“Well, I guess he decided he’d had enough red tape?” he offered Rhodey. Rhodey shrugged and got ready to knock but was interrupted by a scream on the other side that made them all jump.

“I FOUND IT,” a woman’s voice shrieked.

All three of them on the other side of the door breathed a sigh of relief.

No danger. Danger passed. Go down, Hulk. Go down.

Rhodey got ready to knock again.

Another scream broke out, this time one of surprise. Then—

“MATTHEW. Put me DOWN. Give it BACK.”

A thud followed and following _that_ was another one and then swearing. And then—

“Karen, are you serious right now? He’s _blind_, girl.”

Oh.

That was Nelson.

Coming on into home with reason and calm.

“Get off of him. Go on. Get. Now, you--that’s right, look guilty. You’re in trouble, too. Give me what’s in your hand. What is that even—Matt, are you for real? Stop stealing pens. You don’t even use them. Give it to me. Thank you. I’m scheduling you both in for fifteen minutes of Time Out starting now ‘cause you’re fucking _children_.”

…so Nelson took a very different tone in this office from any of the ones he’d ever used in Bruce’s presence.

Tony’s concern had morphed into delight. He knocked this time and the pause on the other side of the door spoke tomes of professional embarrassment. The sound of scuffling and scrabbling that followed was adorable.

Nelson opened the door with a ‘we are very serious lawyers in this office’ face but jerked back in surprise.

“Mr. Stark?” he said.

“Boo! We don’t want any,” A voice from inside the office said. Nelson hissed at it to shut up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “We’re closed right now. Is there something you need help with?”

“Yes, but not what you’re thinking,” Tony said.

Matt Murdock had a sweet, puppyish face and round glasses.

Because he was blind.

Which kind of put things nice and neatly in order without much additional questioning.

“So I take it you have no association with a man called Daredevil?” Rhodey asked him anyways, terrified of the answer that he’d receive.

Because of Matt didn’t know that Mike was out there pretending to be him, then that was going to make for one hell of a Thanksgiving dinner.

Matt cocked his head.

“I know him,” he said.

“Oh, you do?” Rhodey said. “Do you happen to know much about him? Identity-wise?”

Matt’s pleasant smile (which he reserved only for Rhodey and Bruce. He refused to so much as acknowledge Tony’s presence) tipped downwards at the sides.

“Sorry, no,” he said. “We’ve all worked with him on a few cases, but I’m afraid we don’t know much about him personally.”

“He’s an enigma, wrapped in a mystery,” Karen Page added, spinning around in her desk chair.

“Opaque as milk,” Nelson sighed.

Matt smiled at Rhodey and Bruce again.

He had no clue.

Oh, this poor thing.

“Is there anything else we can help you with?” he asked.

No. No. That was enough.

It wasn’t, however, enough for Tony.

“Do you have a twin, Mr. Murdock?” he asked.

Matt showed no sign of having heard him until Nelson cleared his throat warningly. Then, he pouted.

“Yes,” he said. “The bastard.”

Ah, there we go.

“What’s his name?” Tony asked.

Matt didn’t want to say.

Karen leaned an elbow on the back of her chair and drummed fingers against her cheek.

“What’s his name, _Matt_?” she demanded.

Matt scowled.

“Mike,” he relented.

And lo and behold.

Finally, clarity.

**BB:** okay we have cleared this up.

**BB:** Matt Murdock, the lawyer, with the round glasses, says that his brother Mike is a troublemaker.

**BB:** this means that Red/DD is Mike.

**CB:** 😥😥😥

**NR:** why did no one believe me

**NR:** where are all of your excuses now

**SR: **oh okay

**SW:** it’s gonna be okay clint

**JR:** I’m going to sleep for a week someone check on tony in 72 hrs to make sure he’s still laying on the floor with a pulse

**PP:** lol. This is literally what I’ve been saying. Y’all are a mess.

Alright. Finally. Bruce could move on with his life.

And he did. For 68 hours, he was fine. He went and checked Tony’s pulse. He went and had coffee with Thor and Brunhilde.

He went and even took a nap to recover from the madness of the last couple of days. And then, out of the blue, his phone started buzzing.

**PP:** hello avengers. It’s DP. Peter wanted me to tell you all that he’s sorry to say that he fucked up.

**PP:** not 100% sure of what that means, but he’s too embarrassed to text so?

**PP:** take that as you will, I guess? I’m handing the phone back now

What.

**CB:** I fucking told you motherfuckers

**JB:** oh we’re back to this then. Clint just go bang Matt Murdock, he doesn’t have to be super for you to want to get in his pants.

**CB:** I tried that and it didn’t work because he’s all over NELSON BARNES YOU KNOW THIS

**TS:** wow interesting new drama here

**NR:** this is an insult

**JR:** I’m done with this. I’ve got better things to pound my head against

**SR:** wait now I’m confused. Which one is the cute one

**SW:** it’s still me

**SR:** ah I see I see

Bruce wasn’t doing this again.

**BB:** hello is this Jessica Jones?

**JJ:** how did you get this number?

**BB:** I asked my cousin Jenn Walters for it.

**JJ:** oh. That’s okay then, Jenn’s chill. What do you want?

**BB:** just between you and me. I am aware that you’re friends with Matt Murdock.

**JJ:** I mean if he was drowning, I’d let up on the pressure. So yeah.

That was mortifying.

**BB:** graphic. But can you just tell me: does he or does he not have a twin?

**JJ:** I dunno doc. What do you think?

Oh, these vigilantes were_ good_.

Bruce snuck out of the lab and kidnapped Thor for some groundwork. Thor was more than happy to oblige as per usual.

They headed out West to track down Wade Wilson, but on the way got a whistle. Looking up revealed Peter kicking his feet off the edge of a high rise. He vanished.

Bruce frowned.

“That’s us going up,” Thor decided.

He didn’t give Bruce a choice in the matter.

“Peter,” Bruce greeted. Peter’s new suit was darker than his old one. Navy more than blue and a couple shades shy of his old fire-engine red. The spider on his chest sprawled more than it once had, just like him.

“Doctor,” Peter said from behind his mask.

“You’ve been fucking with us, haven’t you?” Bruce said.

“Some of you’ve been fucking around behind my back,” Peter said sweetly. “I saw you come out to school that day.”

“Not bad, eh, Doc?”

Bruce turned around and saw Wade Wilson sitting with one foot tucked under a thigh directly behind him. Thor waved. Wade waved back.

“You are the tactician?” Thor clarified.

“I like to think of myself as dishonorably discharged,” Wade said cheerfully. “But yes. That would be me.”

Goddamnit.

They’d walked right into Peter’s web.

“Sorry you had to be the one, Dr. Banner,” Peter said. “But you know, sometimes you just gotta make a statement.”

Bruce sighed.

“You’re not so bad.”

He sighed harder and looked up to the left and there was Red, half-leaned over the edge of a storage container with his chin in between both palms.

“You’re a liar,” Bruce accused him.

“No, see, the problem is that I’m _not_,” Red practically giggled. “A fucking _twin_, can you believe they fell for it, Wade?”

“Totally can,” Wade said.

Bruce groaned.

“Clint was right,” he said. “And Tony.”

Red practically glowed with his stunning smile and white teeth.

“They all knew,” Bruce realized.

“A couple of them,” Peter hummed. He stood up. “But you’re not gonna tell anyone are you, Dr. Banner? Especially not Mr. Stark, right?”

Yeah, no. Peter was way out to sea with these folks.

He wasn’t a baby anymore.

“No,” Bruce said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“And you won’t run interference again when I’m trying to be _discreet_?” Peter pressed. “And instead of talking to my friends, you or whoever else will talk to me if you or they have a question about _my_ life?”

Ah.

He was pissed.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Bruce sighed. “Things seem to have gotten out of hand.”

“Damn right,” Peter said, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Apology not accepted. When I said I was out, I meant I was out. That means people who don’t respect my being out have to suffer the consequences. And for the record? I _love_ photography. I think I’m even gonna major in photography. And if I take a few extra chem classes along the way, maybe double major even, it’s none of any of y’all’s business, yeah?”

Right, right.

So this was what Peter’s spite looked like.

Good to know for future reference.

“Duly noted, Pete,” Bruce said. “Really, I’m sorry for butting into your business. It was coming from a good place, but I can see now how it probably felt invasive. Next time, I’ll just text you.”

Peter considered him long and hard.

“He’s not lying,” Red said. 

Bruce stared at him.

How the fuck could he know that?

Peter sniffed and then shrugged.

“Alright, I guess I’ll believe you then,” he said.

“Does this mean I get to keep Mike?” Red asked the other two.

“No,” they both said at once.

Peter eventually clued Bruce into how this whole thing had started and he was a bit pleased to find out that he hadn’t been the intended target so much as the messenger.

Peter knew that Tony would catch wind of his activities somehow, through someone, and he had a vigilant eye out for all traces of that.

The other two here wanted him to start considering the stance he wanted to take with the Avengers. They wanted him to find the ones he trusted and to figure out how far he trusted them. They wanted him to see how far his increasing net of contacts could take him so that he’d know in the case of an emergency who he could count on to catch him mid-fall.

Red knew Clint, Natasha, Steve, JB, and Sam.

Red knew Jessica Jones, and his two office friends, and he—goddamnit—he knew Jenn. And he knew that all those people would come through for him.

So he let himself be used an example for Peter to have and then he let Peter pick the opportunity to let it loose, to watch it fan out and unfold, and then to bring it on home.

Red wasn’t afraid of Tony or Rhodey or Bruce or anyone, really. He wasn’t afraid because he knew the limits of his trust and his relationships.

And Peter now knew that those same relationships were able and willing to work with him. They were willing to play dumb. To throw rogue balls into the mix. To run diversions when things started to get too close to home.

Really, what he’d needed was an excuse to take the plunge, and Bruce was the one who had brought it.

“I don’t hate Mr. Stark,” Peter told him gently. “But I need him to stop seeing me as a fifteen-year-old kid. When he can find it in him to stop doing that, then I think I’ll be ready to work with him again.”

That was fair enough.

“But not on the Avengers?” Bruce asked.

Peter pulled off his mask to smile.

“I would love for nothing more than to work with the Avengers,” he said.

With, he said. Not for.

So that ship had sailed. Good to know, good to know.

“If you’re going to do this, then you’re going to need to learn some serious physics, Peter,” Bruce said, watching as Thor allowed himself to be sniffed at by Red who flinched back from him and gagged like a cat presented with a pickle.

Peter lifted his eyes to Bruce’s and cocked his head.

“So I’ll learn them,” he said.

“You’ll need a lab space,” Bruce said.

“I’ll manage,” Peter told him.

“You’ll need materials and tools.”

“So I’ll figure it out, Doc.”

His drive was refreshing. It reminded Bruce of when he’d just started out.

“Tony thinks you’ll overtake all of us,” Bruce told him. “He’s not lying when he says that. You could be anything you want, Peter.”

“I want to be Spiderman,” Peter told him without missing a beat. “And I can’t be Spiderman if I’m busy being a scientist leading the field. Something’s gotta give and maybe the world doesn’t need another scientist. Maybe what the world needs is a little more compassion.”

He twisted his head over his shoulder to where Thor had lured Red in close again, this time sans gagging. Thor waited until Red was about a foot out from his chest before grabbing him and squishing him close in a hug.

Red hated that, ducked out, and retreated behind Wade to recover.

“Red’s making it work,” Peter said. He looked back up at Bruce. “But we need people like me to pick up the slack when he’s ready to hang up the horns.”

A new generation, Peter was talking about.

Things were different now. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to start taking cues from the young folks.

“Add me to your network, Pete,” Bruce said. “I’ll be in your legion of old men. The others will come around eventually.”

They’d have no choice. A new age was a-coming.

**Author's Note:**

> so this is the end of the **Dumpster Fires Verse. **
> 
> I must say that it has been harder and harder to find a natural place to end it, but I've decided to stop putting off the inevitable. 
> 
> The verse will continue in bits and pieces in the **Lighter Fluid Verse** so the end of this series does not mean the end of these characters or the writing, but I need to bring this piece to a close. I just need to. 
> 
> I cannot put into words how much I have appreciated those of you who have read and commented on the DFV. And especially those who have come and asked me questions and who have created fanart and spent time playing in this verse with me. I am touched by your thoughtfulness and kindness and on days where I have felt absolutely like trash, I have been reminded of and humbled by the support that this series has received. 
> 
> Thank you all so much. Have my best wishes everyone and I hope this journey has been just as fulfilling for you as it has been for me.
> 
> Peace y'all,
> 
> Matt
> 
> (btw, if you want more of the meta behind the DFV, you can find it here on my tumblr: https://deniigi.tumblr.com/tagged/dumpster-fires-verse)


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